


Learning Opportunity

by Anonymous



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types, Mortal Kombat 11 - Fandom
Genre: All The Other Characters Briefly Mentioned, And sarcasm, Call Ermac Because Erron Has A Soul, Either Way Jin Is Tapping That, Erron Is A Mix Of His MKX And MK11 Selves Here, Erronjin, Eventual Sex, Everyone's Trying To Play Nice, Flirting, Hook-Ups Notwithstanding, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, OTP Feels, Set In Between MKX And MK11, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:38:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In the aftermath of Mileena's downfall and Shinnok's defeat, the attempts between Earthrealm and Outworld to broker peace are slowly but surely getting somewhere, even if it feels like nothing is progressing.The exact same thing could be said about the budding "relationship" between Kung Jin and Erron Black ...
Relationships: Erron Black/Kung Jin
Comments: 36
Kudos: 42
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VenusInCancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusInCancer/gifts).



> Okay, I was really inspired to write this story after reading VenusInCancer's ErronJin fic, "Non-Aggression Pact", because HOO BOY the FEELS, and their writing is so top notch that I wish I could write like that. Please go give it a read!
> 
> So this is kinda my interpretation of what happened after the events of their fic, so it's sort of a sequel? But at the same it's not, as it can be read alone. But it's still heavily inspired by their fic, so it IS very sequel-ish. Either way, I hope they, and you all, will enjoy my story. Xx

He was not the kind of man to settle for less.

An attitude like that – like _his_ – could garner either one of two reactions: respect, or immense dislike. For Erron Black, he had his fair share of both, but just enough of the first to keep himself from becoming food for worms … or whatever the hell Outworld’s equivalent of worms is, D’Vorah’s “kids” notwithstanding.

Obviously, it all came down to the context: a professional mercenary like Erron prided himself in his ability to get shit done. Staking out (and taking out) a target took time and patience, yes, but damn it all if there was a past job that he was not satisfied with. Ultimately, years upon years of experience proved that he could always hold up his end of the bargain. This was the most important selling point during his contract negotiations with potential employers – a verbal rundown of his résumé, and perhaps even a quick demonstration of his marksmanship, can easily impress a bloodthirsty warlord with heavy pockets. So, Erron felt no shame whatsoever in charging them exorbitant fees. Maintaining his high standards demanded big money, after all.

But anything less than what he asked for? A tip of the hat, a vague curse mumbled under his breath, and onto hawking his wares to the next bloodthirsty warlord with equally heavy pockets.

Enter Kotal Kahn. A little more diplomatic – and a whole lot dumber – than Erron’s previous employers. Still willing to pay others to get rid of his enemies for him rather than doing it himself, though. The position of an enforcer for Outworld’s emperor was nothing to scoff at (neither were the perks that came with it: catered food, palace accommodation, and a place among his council), so the gunslinger took it, and he was not going to vacate it anytime soon.

Provided there wasn’t a single coin missing from his hefty monthly salary, of course.

So, in a place like Outworld, where practically everyone lived and died for conflict aplenty, Erron’s attitude got him in good with the right people.

_Here in Earthrealm, though?_

Yeah. _That’s_ where respect came to a grinding fucking halt.

Clearly, Erron’s reputation preceded him, judging by the “welcoming committee” that met him as he emerged from the portal into Earthrealm – the home he had outgrown a long, _long_ time ago. Surrounded by a posse of pissed-off-looking soldiers armed to the teeth, General Sonya Blade of Special Forces stepped forth, a cold expression on her comely face as she nearly crushed his hand with an iron grip.

“I thought the emperor would’ve chosen someone else as his representative for the conference,” she remarked.

Her eyes darted over his ensemble: the hat and bandanna, bandoliers, revolvers and boots. “I didn’t expect _you_ , Mr Black.”

Erron shrugged. “Between Reptile and Ermac, I’m as good as it gets. _Ma’am_.” The last past was hastily tacked on.

The general pursed her lips, but she did not respond immediately. Instead, she called for two soldiers to accompany her and Erron as she led him inside S-F’s headquarters. It was a massive structure made up of concrete and glass, and there was far too much grey for Erron’s liking. Not for the first time, he wished that Kotal Kahn had chosen someone else to partake in this godforsaken inter-realm conference. A year had passed since the whole shenanigans with Shinnok and Mileena, and Earthrealm and Outworld were doing their best to play nice with each other, starting with these conferences. The most recent one – the _first_ one – had been held back in Outworld, with only that group of four emissaries present. Back then, Erron was merely a spectator.

And now here he was, an actual participant. No wait, correction – a _fucking_ _reluctant_ participant. Politics and peacebuilding were not his thing, but he was willing to bet that his being a Earthrealm native might have had something to do with him being lumbered with this representative gig.

_Still bullshit, though._

Several minutes later, Erron found himself in a spacious boardroom, where several men and women were seated at a large round table. Some of them wore starched uniforms with lots of jazzed up pieces of tin pinned to their fronts, while others opted for casual clothing. Many glares were directed his way as he took his seat between General Blade and an old fogey with more medals than teeth. The glares seemed to harden as the general introduced him.

“Mr Black will be relaying Kotal Kahn’s responses from the last conference. Any proposals or observations that you may have, he is more than capable of discussing them with you.”

 _Nothing more, nothing less_ , her tone conveyed to Erron.

Yup, _definitely_ dislike.

Ah well. Feeling’s mutual, and all that claptrap.

With introductions still ongoing, the gunslinger removed his hat and took a good look at the table’s occupants. Out of everyone present, he only recognized one person who sat across from him: Commander Cassandra Cage. The young woman – looking every bit like the military brat in her camo get-up – caught his eye and frowned. On her right, an older man in a green vest peered over the lenses of his dark eyewear at him; what looked like amusement shone in his eyes. He whispered something in Cage’s ear, making her giggle.

A flicker of annoyance passed over Erron’s face. He knew they were talking about him. He would have called them out, but his attention was suddenly captured by the man seated on Cage’s left. At the sight of him, his annoyance dissolved.

Glossy black hair swept back into a high ponytail. A lightly freckled face boasting tawny eyes, an upturned nose and a pursed mouth. A tall, strapping body dressed in a navy-blue jacket over a grey shirt, a pair of black jeans, and leather ankle boots.

Behind his bandanna, Erron’s lips twitched upwards.

_The Shaolin punk._

Who else could it be?

He was surprised that he didn’t recognize Kung Jin right away. The lack of a golden headpiece, that textured uniform from the open vest to the armoured boots, and the bow and quiver must have thrown him off.

_Not that it was a problem the last time, when he was nak –_

He stopped his train of thought just in time. If he’d have gone any further, then it would have been _very_ difficult for him to nurse the sudden ache below his gunbelt.

Shifting in his seat, Erron watched as Jin’s eyes scanned some handwritten pages on the table. Then, scooping up the pages into his hands, he looked up and their eyes met. If Erron was not mistaken, his cheeks appeared a shade darker, making those freckled dots stand out more.

Pulling down his bandanna with two fingers, Erron flashed him a near enough smile.

“Been a hot minute since I’ve seen _you_ ,” he said in a low voice.

Jin’s eyes narrowed and his mouth parted, but he said nothing. Or, at least to Erron’s mind, he could not, for General Blade – having finished her introductions – had delved into another spiel. Every so often, the others chimed in with their own two cents’ worth. Sometimes they even directed their “proposals and observations” towards the gunslinger, whose short, deadpan replies either left them looking blank-faced or a tad dissatisfied. These looks worsened still when he rattled off Kotal Kahn’s responses from the last conference; the old fogey, listening to him in disbelief, virtually kept his raw pink gums on display.

Apparently, Earthrealm was _not_ going to have an easy time riding Outworld’s ass towards inter-realm peace.

Only then did Kung Jin speak up. A statement here, a suggestion there, and questions and explanations in between, all said in a matter-of-fact tone that conveyed his vast bank of knowledge. Most of these he aimed at his fellow Earthrealmers, but a few times he engaged Erron himself, sans the usual snark. And of course Erron obliged him where he could, switching up his _own_ tone to a deliberate, husky rumble when he did. For good measure, he teasingly twirled a sandy-blonde tress around his gloved fingers.

Not that Jin acknowledged the actions, except maybe with a quirked eyebrow that came and quickly went. Otherwise, he continued to speak in bits and pieces. Truthfully, the gunslinger barely heeded what the bowman (or the others) actually said. Instead, all he could focus on was how smooth and rich he spoke.

If the emperor thought his words were silver, then Erron decided that they were more like gold.

Nothing less.

* * *

Three hours later, darkness fell, and they were nowhere near done.

Unfortunately for Erron, that meant having to partake in yet _another_ confer-fucking-ence tomorrow. Even worse, instead of sending him back to Outworld through a portal, General Blade had him escorted to a nearby barrack where he could room for the night. That it had been previously occupied by a colonel who had died just a week ago did very little to lift the mercenary’s spirits.

So, after a light supper with the general and some of the uniformed officers (Jin, Cage and her father had hauled ass, but sadly the gummy old fogey did not – watching him eat mashed potatoes was on par with D’Vorah spewing bugs), Erron found himself standing in a sparse room. Outfitted with a small kitchenette and a puny en-suite, there was nothing else in there except for a queen-sized bed, a dresser, an armchair, and a small table with two chairs – all cleaned and whatnot, the general had assured him, for they were expecting another soldier to occupy the room in due course.

“What a life,” he said to himself.

He knew how ironic it sounded, coming from him. However, he did not have the energy to dwell on it further.

 _Sleep now, and get this night over with_ , he thought.

After taking off his hat, his bandanna and his gloves, and placing them on top of the dresser, Erron unstrapped his numerous bandoliers. Along with his revolvers, he placed them carefully, almost reverently, on the table. Then, sitting on the side of the bed, he had begun taking off his boots, when he heard three hard taps on the bedroom door. He glanced up.

“Yeah?”

The door slowly creaked open, and in stepped a familiar figure who made Erron sit up straight. Whatever irritation he felt melted away.

“ _You_ ,” he said, the word sounding gentle on his tongue.

Indeed, it was the Shaolin “punk”. Letting his hand slip from the doorknob, Kung Jin tilted his head.

“ _Mr_ Black,” he replied. A hint of a smirk appeared on his lips.

Erron rolled his eyes, glad that he managed to swallow his chuckle in time. He, too, tilted his head.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to visit me in this glorified jail block. So, you know, ‘scuse me for being a little underdressed.”

The bowman did not reply right away. Closing the door behind him, he leaned his weight against it before looking straight at him. Those tawny eyes betrayed little emotion.

“I found out from one of the soldiers who brought you here where you were staying,” he explained. “Told him that the general wanted me to discuss some last-minute things with you before tomorrow.”

Erron stood up, crossing his arms. He softly asked, “And do you?”

Jin shrugged non-committally. “Not quite the truth. But it’s not a complete lie, either.”

He paused, as if to consider his next words. “I had to speak to you.”

“Aw, and here I thought you were ignorin’ little ol’ me,” Erron crooned.

His eyes wandered over the other man’s figure – he now noticed the long inky strands that were tucked behind his ears.

The way his jacket bunched up at his broad shoulders the more he leaned against the door.

How his collarbones jutted through his fitted grey shirt.

The way he angled his shapely legs, one over the other.

How the band of his jeans tightly hugged the curves of his waist …

Erron breathed in sharply, feeling the sudden, Death Valley-like dryness in his throat.

“I’m not for talking right now, if you catch my drift,” he breathed out, taking slow, steady steps towards Jin. As he did so, he became fully aware of the ache pressing against his trousers. “God knows we could put our mouths to better use.”

Uncrossing his arms, Erron stretched them out – to take hold of Jin’s wrists or hips, whatever he could reach first. As he did so, however, Jin pushed himself off the door and moved to the side, out of the way of those incoming hands.

Indeed, those hands paused as Jin proceeded to walk past their surprised owner. Blinking his eyes, Erron turned around with a slightly puzzled look on his face. The gunslinger was mollified to an extent when he saw that the other man was standing with his legs against the corner edge of the bed, but his somber expression confused him. He tried to dismiss his befuddlement with a chortle.

“That’s smart, thinking ahead,” he remarked. “Haven’t tried the bed yet myself. Would be nice to test it together, don’t you agree?”

Jin narrowed his eyes. “I said I wanted to talk.”

No sarcasm. No back-sass. Just plain and simple seriousness.

Erron struggled to keep himself from frowning.

“I’m all talked out,” was his sigh-laced reply as he stood before Jin. Their similar heights made it easier for him to hold his gaze. “I’m amazed that I can still string sentences together.”

Slowly, he cupped Jin’s face in his hands, rubbing his calloused thumbs over the dotted arches of his cheeks.

“But if you like,” he whispered, “I can let something _else_ do the talking for me.”

His lips were upon Jin’s protesting mouth in seconds. It was only when he felt Jin relaxing beneath his touch – yielding to him with what sounded like a quiet moan – that Erron deepened the kiss, parting those soft lips with his tongue. The warmth of his mouth was so inviting, so _intoxicating_ , that Erron barely gave them both time to breathe as he pulled back before diving in again. His fingers grazed the smoothness of Jin’s neck before they slid up the back of his head and into his hair. He kneaded into the black bristles, while the silken strands of his ponytail lightly brushed against his knuckles. At the same time, he could feel Jin’s hands grasping his forearms, digging his fingers into his muscles with a strange yet not unwelcome intensity.

With a hum bordering on a growl, Erron broke away again, took hold of Jin’s shoulders, and with ease gently pushed him down into a sitting position on the bed. The momentary break allowed Jin, flushed and near breathless, to stare up at him – much to the mercenary’s consternation, however, his face bore _that_ look again.

“This isn’t what I came here for, Black,” he hissed.

Erron raised his eyebrows.

“If you were sent to kill me or something, then you’re doing a piss-poor job at it, Junior,” he flatly replied.

The words were barely out of his mouth before his lips were on the other man’s again, harder and deeper. The force was enough to make Jin fall back onto the mattress, his head falling short of the pillows. Then, in one swift movement, Erron climbed atop of him, sinking into the warmth of his mouth as well as the heat of his body. Straddling him, he ground their hips together, a moan escaping his own mouth as he did so.

It quickly turned into a loud yelp when he was unceremoniously flipped over and pinned down to the sheets.

Gathering his senses, Erron looked up: Jin stared back down at him, a scowl dominating his features. He exerted pressure against the Outworlder’s arms, which were restrained above his head.

“Shit, I forgot that I was dealing with a Shaolin punk,” Erron muttered.

Jin’s scowl grew more impressive.

“That’s _exactly_ the problem, Black,” he said heatedly. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with _at all_.”

Erron’s brows furrowed. The ache subsided somewhat, at least giving him some room to concentrate.

“The hell d’you mean by that?” he scoffed. “I know enough.”

Jin shook his head.

“Physically, maybe. But _me_? Not even close.”

“You’re a smart-ass diplomat who’s been trained by damn _monks_ –” (all the available emphasis, with a hint of disdain, went on that word) “– to kill people, and you’re sleeping around on the sly. That a good answer, Junior?”

A groan involuntarily left Erron’s mouth as Jin’s tightened his grip on his arms.

“First of all, I wouldn’t call hooking up with just _one_ guy ‘sleeping around’,” the bowman huffed.

“Sleeping around is as sleeping around does,” grumbled Erron, his eyes rolling.

Still, his lips curled upwards on their own accord as he said, “So you _ain’t_ been bed-hopping since the first conference? Just been in mine?”

The way a vivid blush spilled rapidly across Jin’s cheeks, setting his freckles ablaze, made Erron want to guffaw.

“Kinda flattering, that,” he quipped. “I thought you’d be more adventurous after our own little meeting. To each their own, I guess. But hey, I’m glad it left that much of an impression on you.”

For added emphasis, he shifted underneath Jin’s weight, deliberately pushing his hips up against his. Unfortunately, his efforts were rewarded with another painful squeeze.

Shaking his head again, Jin glared at the gunslinger.

“Secondly,” he snapped, “no, that wasn’t a good answer, Black. You think that’s all there is to me? That I’m just some sort of homicidal monk who’s easy to screw around? Is that what you really think?”

 _Don’t forget ‘smart-ass’_ , Erron thought to himself.

Out loud, he jadedly replied, “That’s all I know, Junior. In the time that we’ve become acquainted, that is.”

“And that’s enough for you?”

“Huh?”

And there it was – a great frown now appeared on Erron’s face. It was the facial equivalent of a crescent moon darkening the skies of a sunny day.

Upon seeing it, Jin cocked his head to the side. His ponytail snaked over his shoulder, the tip just about caressing the side of Erron’s neck. Then, he released his hold on Erron’s arms before he sat up straight, balancing his weight on the man’s hips. What looked like weariness showed on his face.

“That night after the conference,” he said softly, “when you and I were in your quarters, sharing that bottle of … Christ, whatever the hell that was … I got a glimpse of you – the _real_ you, not this mysterious Earthrealmer who followed the money by choosing to work for the Kahn. You opened up where you could, and for that I … I let you catch a glimpse of the real _me_ , too.”

Unconsciously, he began kneading the bottom hem of Erron’s denim shirt, the fabric rolling in between his fingers.

“In that moment, I allowed myself to give in. I gave in to something that I’d normally feel ashamed of just by thinking about it. I could’ve pushed it away, but there was a part of me that didn’t want to let go. Not like that. I _had_ to take what was being given to me … no matter if it hurt or not.”

Erron’s frown deepened. At the same time, he could feel his body beginning to tingle beneath Jin’s touch, those fingers brushing against his abdomen the more they fiddled with the hem. Digging his teeth into the inner folds of his bottom lip, he forced himself to focus on the oblivious bowman, who sighed.

“But when the next morning rolled around, I wasn’t satisfied. Not completely.”

His eyes briefly fluttered shut before opening again. Erron could see the frustration that now radiated from them.

“I realized I wanted more. Not only on an intimate level, but on a personal level, too. Afterwards, I dug up what I could about your past because I wanted to know you more. Understand you more. Maybe I wanted to have the satisfaction from knowing I had you sussed out without you being aware. Not that I could really, as I didn’t find anything else on you. I still haven’t been able to.”

Erron dared to finally bring his arms down to his sides as he cut in, “And you still want to?”

Jin’s fingers paused as he considered his answer.

“I want to,” he answered after a few seconds’ pause. “At least, I think I wanted to, but …”

“Yeah?”

Those tawny eyes stared deep into his blue ones.

“You’d need to return the favor.”

Erron blinked several times as he absorbed these words – the more his eyes shuttered and opened, the more his forehead wrinkled. Then, with some effort (and a grunt), he carefully propped himself onto his elbows – all the while, Jin maintained a perfect perch on his hips. Lifting his head a little, the gunslinger searched the other man’s face with a probing gaze.

“Return the favor?” he echoed. “The hell does _that_ mean, Junior?”

Jin’s own stare grew solemn, almost sharp.

“Hooking up with you is all well and good, Black, but Elder Gods help me, I’m not settling for cheap, throwaway arrangements like _this_. Especially not with someone who’s pretty much still a stranger to me. Someone who’s apparently made up their mind about me from the get-go.”

He fell silent for an age that was disguised as a moment.

Then, he added, “So why compromise my self-worth for someone who’s willing to settle for less?”

At this, Erron screwed up his face. Without warning, he pushed himself upwards – making Jin almost lose his balance – until he was resting his weight on his arms, the palms of his hands lying flat against the sheets. Through a narrowed gaze, his eyes were aflame like blue embers.

“I don’t settle for less,” he rumbled.

“Despite what you said about me earlier? Sounds like you do.”

“I don’t settle for less,” Erron repeated, frost and heat surrounding the words. “ _Ever_.”

Jin cocked his head.

“Neither do I,” he replied slowly. “And I could prove it to you. But to do that, you must do the same. You _need_ to.”

He’s offering him something. Erron gathered as much. The bait was obvious, like waving a ripe carrot in front of a rabbit. Yet he had to wonder where exactly the line that dangled it before him led to.

What exactly would happen if he took the bite.

Not that it worked out well for him the last time he dared to take up an offer from the punk – a golden carrot with a completely bullshit core. Surprise, oh surprise.

But damn, did their little meeting make up for it. That night, the starving rabbit had his fill of sweet, golden carrots.

_No more, no less._

Now, looking up at said punk (his tongue refused to say “monk” again), Erron could feel his hunger growing, as well as his curiosity. _More_ and _more_.

Well, shit.

He was going to have to take the bite, wasn’t he?

“So, what do you want me to do?” he asked, virtually whispering.

Jin’s nose wrinkled.

“I hope you meant it when you said that,” he said.

A million retorts, all laced with withering sarcasm, formed on Erron’s tongue, but they all died on his lips in favor of one solemn response.

“I did, Jun – er, _Jin_. Every single word.”

It was as if hearing his name, and not the mercenary’s little nickname for him, suddenly made Jin’s face brighten. For the first time that evening, a smile formed on his lips. It was small, but it matched the gleaming light that appeared in his eyes.

“What I want from you, Black … what I _need_ from you, is for you to get to know me more.”

Erron’s brows knitted together into one straight, severe line.

“Get to know you more?” he repeated. “Is that fuckin’ it?”

His outburst, incredulous though it sounded, was enough to warrant an unexpected bark of laughter from the bowman.

“Aw, were you expecting something else, cowboy?” he asked, his smile morphing into a smirk. “Something _more_?”

Letting his arms collapse beneath him, Erron fell back flat onto the bed with a groan.

“Being asked to defect to Earthrealm or walk down the church aisle with your ass was what I was waiting to hear,” he answered, groaning again. “Not something simple like _that_.”

Jin cocked an amused eyebrow.

“It’s not that difficult, but it’s hardly gonna be simple, either. If you want me in your bed, you’ve got to do your damndest to earn it, and that’s by learning about who the hell’s getting under the covers.”

Pausing a little, he added, “In the end, I want you to see and understand me. All of me, that is – the _real_ me. It might just make our hook-ups that much more meaningful to you. To us both, actually.”

His smirk grew.

“I’m offering you a _learning opportunity_ ,” he declared.

Erron heaved a sigh that sent his upper body rising a few inches off the bed.

“Wonder where I heard _that_ shit before,” he muttered.

Jin shrugged his shoulders. “Take it or leave it. But just remember, neither of us are settling for less here.”

Right on the mark. Clever bowman.

Clever, smart-ass, unpredictable, goddamned attractive bowman.

All that, and so much _more_.

“I’ll take it,” he replied.

“Good.”

A purring tone of satisfaction surrounded that word. It was enough for a smile to form on Erron’s lips in turn.

“This is gonna sound kinda mushy coming from me, Junior,” he said, breathing in deeply, “but I feel pretty bad knowing you got this impression that I think any less of you. And I don’t. I honestly don’t think so. I wouldn’t’ve tried getting with you if that were the case. But if this, uh, _opportunity_ will set things right in your eyes, then I appreciate you giving it to me. It’s rare to find somethin’ like second chances in Earthrealm nowadays. Hell, make that _any_ kinda chance. So, you know, I’m grateful.”

When the gunslinger had finished, a slight pink tinge appeared upon Jin’s cheeks. However, amusement made itself known on his face.

“Wow, Black, what happened to being ‘all talked out’?” he deadpanned.

Erron groaned again, his hands slipping underneath his pillow.

“Christ almighty, I try to be romantic, and _you_ go and spoil it. Typical.”

“You? Being romantic? That’s a first. I’ll rate the effort three stars out of –”

_BOOMPH!_

The pillow hit Jin full in the face before he could finish his rating (out of what, no one will ever know). The force was enough for the pillow to bounce off and onto the floor, and for Jin – momentarily stunned – to nearly loll backwards. He would have, if not for the pair of strong arms that wrapped around his upper body and pulled him down in a forward motion. A low rumble of laughter rung in his ears before he felt Erron’s mouth pressing against his own.

With a hum rising from his throat, Erron – spurred on by the hazy sigh that Jin made – exerted pressure on the other man’s bottom lip, easing into the parted mouth with renewed energy. As he did so, his hands began to roam over his body: one slid up and down the curve of Jin’s jacketed back, ghosting over the taut expanse between his shoulder blades, while the other glided up his thigh, passing very slowly over his backside before coming to hook itself into his waistband …

“Nuh uh, not tonight.”

Before Erron knew it, the full weight of Jin’s body was suddenly no longer upon his: the other man had climbed off him and was now standing beside the bed. Neatening his tousled hair and pulling down on his jacket, Jin – once again flushed – looked down at Erron’s breathless, bedraggled and vaguely annoyed form.

“Not tonight, my ass,” the gunslinger huffed, struggling not to whine. “Get back in the bed.”

To his consternation, Jin chuckled.

“So that you can smack me in the face with a pillow again? As if,” he retorted. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to tire you out. You’ll need to be wide awake – and at least looking like you’re interested – at tomorrow’s conference. It’s early in the morning, you know.”

“Fuck me.”

“I don’t know if that’s you asking, or you complaining about the meeting time, but still, I can’t help you in the first department.”

Erron was half-tempted to throw another pillow at Jin when the bowman spoke up again, his voice losing its amusement.

“Anyway, I’ve come to say what I needed to say. And like I said, if you want me, then you’ll need to work hard at it. I’m giving you the opportunity to try. I …”

Yet another pause. The intense way Jin stared down at him made Erron want to get up and gather him in his arms.

Before he could act on this notion, however, Jin spoke again: “I trust you enough to not screw it up.”

It was Erron’s turn to smirk.

“I thought you weren’t keen on taking lessons in trust from a mercenary,” he mock-taunted.

Jin grinned.

“I guess it’s a learning opportunity for me as well,” he replied. “More or less.”

“More or less,” Erron quietly repeated, mostly to himself.

The grin widened, almost playful as their wearer’s words. “Sweet dreams, Black. Maybe one of ‘em will have a happy ending.”

With that, Jin walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him. His footsteps moved further and further away until they could no longer be heard.

Drawing in his breath before loudly releasing it, Erron gingerly sat up in his bed, rubbing his face. Whatever ache he had officially dissipated, and he felt all the more irritable for it.

And tired. Christ, he did not realize how tired he was.

 _Between sleeping and sex, I’d go for sleeping right now_ , he thought, yawning as he finally took off his boots.

Then, after brushing his teeth and switching off the light, Erron settled into the bed, drawing the covers to his chin. At least, he knew, tomorrow was another day. If he can get through the conference (and a showing of those awful pink gums), he would feel better.

And as for Kung Jin?

Perhaps finding a way to make a better “arrangement” with him was something to put on the top of the gunslinger’s agenda.

“Huh, learning opportunity,” he mumbled, smiling in the dark.

How far it came from its threatening origins.

How golden it sounded on the bowman’s tongue.

A challenge, that. A non-verbal contract job with big gains, essentially.

It would take time and patience to watch, learn and do what needed to be done.

That, he was certain of.

Whatever happened, Erron knew he had to hold up his end of the bargain.

No matter what.

He respected the Shaolin punk – wait, no, _monk_ – to do that for him.

“Nothing less,” he whispered, before drifting off into the peaceful world of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know Erron goes poncho-less here? Just letting you know in case you're wondering because I don't think it would be comfy to sleep in. (And I also forgot it about it until the end, so...)
> 
> Let me know in the comments below if you enjoyed this story. If I ever write a sequel to this one, maybe I'll have Jin and Erron do more than just kissing and sassing each other out. C:


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after much thought and encouragement, I decided to continue with this oneshot. It's just easier instead of writing a sequel and as you will see, this chapter wouldn't do so great or make sense as a standalone story. xD Also, as you can see, it's going to be three chapters now, so expect more ErronJin goodness soon enough!
> 
> Thanks again to VenusInCancer for inspiring me to write this - please enjoy this second part. Xxx

His name’s Jin, last name Kung. That much was obvious.

Of these names, “Kung” held much more importance. At least, as far as Earthrealm’s kombat history was concerned. Two others who played huge roles in said history could lay claim to this prestigious appellation:

Kung Lao, Jin’s uncle. A formidable Shaolin warrior, and brethren of the realm’s former champion, Liu Kang. Also known – bizarrely enough – for wielding a _hat_ as a weapon (and giving the phrase “looking sharp” a whole new meaning, it seems). Now plying his trade in the Netherrealm as one of them revenant types, the poor bastard.

The Great Kung Lao, Jin’s … _whatever_ grandfather. The first Lao, and the most venerable one of the two (hence the “great” part). Shaolin as well, and Earthrealm’s most famous champion. Defended the realm’s honor in kombat ‘til Goro thumped him. Apparently ageless, but not invulnerable. _Very_ relatable, that.

As for the name of “Jin”, it spoke of the aspirations that his parents had for his future: gold, riches, bright.

Of course, they didn’t bargain on the amount of shit that life threw at them when Lao went and died, and then resurfaced as Quan Chi’s servant, otherwise they would not have considered “Jin” at all.

Especially given the highly questionable antics that their only son undertook after their fortunes all but went kaput.

But it is what it is, and “Jin” he remains.

Jin, the blood of Kung Lao and the Great Kung Lao. Jin, the thief. Jin, the Shaolin punk (“ _Monk_ , Black, dammit”). Jin, the diplomat. Jin, the official liaison between Earthrealm and Outworld. Jin, the one Earthrealm emissary whom Kotal Kahn tolerated the most.

Jin … Erron Black’s current fascination.

Not to mention the source of the gunslinger’s present irritation.

“One beer, that’s all I want,” he moaned for the seventh or eighth time. “Just _one_.”

Jin shook his head, his ponytail swishing to and fro like a great minute hand of a clock gone wild, stuck swinging between five and seven.

“This café doesn’t sell alcohol,” he replied, “and I’m not abandoning my meal to take you to a bar. Besides, if you wanted beer so badly, then you should’ve stayed to eat with General Blade and everyone else. They usually have a drink or two during these conference lunchbreaks.”

Erron wrinkled his nose. “And watch that toothless old devil trying to eat? I’d give up drinking for sobriety at the sight.”

“Then you should’ve stayed.”

Erron rolled his eyes. Four and a bit inter-realm conferences in the space of three weeks later – now on the fifth, and it was Earthrealm’s turn again – and he still grew queasy at the thought of having to witness the eating habits of that doddery Special Forces fogey. Luckily, Jin (who had hastily declined Commander Cassie Cage’s invitation to dine with her and her equally mystified father at a high-end restaurant) offered him a reprieve: rather than eating with the S-F officers during a mid-conference lunchbreak, the bowman would take him to a nearby outdoor café. His treat, he emphasised.

“Your idea of a date?” Erron had asked in response, smirking.

Jin did not answer. Out loud, anyway. Just the small, upward curl of his lips was all Erron received.

He received something similar from him when he had arrived from Outworld earlier that morning. Rather than his usual ensemble, he had taken to wearing casual Earthrealm clothing for when he was attending the conferences at S-F’s headquarters. Apparently, all it took to draw somewhat less heated glares (and appreciative gazes, Jin’s especially) was a decently fitted shirt, a pair of trousers (with inner room for his guns and holsters – thank whatever phony God that S-F gave him official clearance to walk around with his precious weapons off-premises), and leather boots polished to perfection.

And his hat, obviously. Minus the bullets, which was a pity.

Still, if it meant getting on S-F’s good side, and Earthrealm by extension, then it was adios to his wardrobe for now.

_And anyway, I ain’t got time to unstrap all my ammo belts if Junior and I got to –_

Oh _fuck_ , pause that thought.

Again.

In fact, he’s done more pausing of any and all base thoughts involving Jin in these past three weeks than focusing on peacebuilding, if he had to be honest.

Well, at least he could say that he made up for it by doing exactly what Jin asked of him that night in the S-F barrack:

Getting to know him more.

Yes, he was actually going through with it.

Because Jin was right. Of course he was damn well right.

_“Neither of us are settling for less here … I’m giving you the opportunity to try.”_

And boy, did Erron try. He did so with extreme patience and – much to Jin’s surprise – a strong sense of willingness, mostly during the thirty-or-so minute breaks they took during these conferences. Stolen moments together in deserted palace corridors, military cloakrooms and even a restroom allowed the gunslinger to gather information about the bowman as summarised above. That’s how far he’d gotten, though.

Unfortunately, it was _still_ not enough to get into Jin’s pants.

Much like his actions that night, Jin was making an awfully bad habit of rebuffing Erron’s amorous advances. More specifically, the ones that involved attempts to get him in the sheets. Even minor romantic gestures were being snubbed.

Erron was lucky to even get further than just two or three kisses in the confines of a toilet stall, for Christ’s sake.

Hell, he was ready to incur the Kahn’s wrath at the last conference by attempting to cop a feel right in front of him – a well-placed strike on his hand by the punk’s dragon-headed bow saved him the trouble.

_And that’s my best hand, too._

So yes, Erron’s unsated ache was giving him _all_ kinds of grief.

 _Not that_ he’s _helping, either_ , he thought irately to himself, watching Jin using the tip of his tongue to pull the metal straw of his soda between his lips. And what lips they were: so fine, so supple …

With a tight gulp, Erron sat up straight in his chair. He prodded half-heartedly at his fries with a fork, wishing for a beer now more than never.

“You were tellin’ me about how your team was formed, Jin?” he muttered, just about remembering to say the golden name. “About when you got your call-up from the Wu-something Academy?”

“Wu _Shi_ ,” corrected Jin, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. Negotiating his salad with a spoon and fork, he continued, “I was there for five years when Mr Cage put our team together. Given our history with Outworld, he wanted the Shaolin to be represented alongside S-F and the Shirai Ryu. So, he picked me. I haven’t said this before to anyone, but I think Raiden had something to do with my being chosen. I’m sure he put in a good word for me.”

“That’s some favoritism right there,” snarked Erron. “I mean, your uncle was mentored by Raiden, right? And he fought on the same side as Cage. Wouldn’t be surprising why he was givin’ you the preferential treatment.”

Jin nibbled thoughtfully on a tomato slice before making his reply. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. If Mr Cage wanted someone else, then he had a lot of choices available to him. And even _if_ Raiden suggested to him that I should be on the team, he wasn’t obligated to do what he said.”

“Listening doesn’t seem to come naturally to Cage, I reckon.”

“He’s gotten better at it over the years, so they say.”

“Must have, if you’re _here_ now.”

There was something about the gunslinger’s tone that made Jin tilt his head, his lips thinning into a small frown.

“As opposed to?” he asked.

Erron shrugged, answering, “Being stuck at that there academy.”

“You make it sound like I was trapped there.”

 _Perhaps you were_ , a small part of Erron wanted to say out loud. He dutifully ignored it.

“Wasn’t trying to make it sound like that,” he replied. “Still, I can’t imagine you spending the rest of your life being cooped up there. Not even for those damn archives.”

Jin’s brows furrowed slightly.

“Says the guy who’s shacking up in Outworld,” he deadpanned, “and isn’t planning on leaving any time soon.”

Ah. Fair point. That kind of smart-assery deserved a round of applause.

Or a kiss. To get him to shut up, for one thing. To capture and taste those pouty, tomatoey lips, for another.

 _Fuck it, Erron, quit thinking with your dick_ , he thought, biting back a mental groan as the heat in his lap reluctantly cooled.

“Don’t change the subject, Junior,” Erron said, focusing his efforts on sounding firm. “I’m just saying, you don’t seem the type to stay still in one place. It’s not in your nature.”

The corners of Jin’s mouth perked up by an inch.

“Aw, look at you being so observant,” he said in a tone that could best be described as both mock-proud and genuinely pleased.

However, it quickly became somber. “You’d be surprised, Black. There’s a lot of good people there at the academy, many that I’ve known for years – they’re the kind I want to surround myself with daily. As for the place itself … well, it’s basically my home at this point. Almost better than the real thing, if I had to be honest. And yeah, the archives are _incredible_. Very appealing if you’re into scholarly matters like _I_ am. For these reasons, I’d stick around at the academy for as long as possible.”

Yet when he finished, the gunslinger could sense the unspoken “but” hanging in the air, like a suspended bullet that was doomed to stray off-target no matter what.

And that _ain’t_ no way to shoot from the hip. At _all_.

“It’s not in your nature,” Erron repeated. “That kind of life? It’s too –”

Restrictive? Oppressive? Virtuous? _Too good for him?_

“– quiet,” he decided.

“Quiet?”

Erron nodded, committed to his word choice. “Quiet.”

The bowman said nothing right away. A thoughtful look took its place on his face. Then he sighed, the thoughtfulness giving way to a mixture of dissatisfaction and apprehension.

“That’s the thing,” he whispered. “I don’t think I’d be able to keep it up.”

The mercenary cocked his head.

“That life?” he asked.

Jin nodded. “That life. Not when I’m …”

“Yeah? Not when you’re what?”

Their eyes met straight across the table. A rosy shade bloomed across those freckled cheeks.

“Not,” he answered, still whispering, “when I’ve broken my vows of celibacy for you.”

Boom. And there it was.

As if Erron was surprised. Hell, he wasn’t going to even bother pretending that he was.

For him, it was as if the glass barrier that had separated the two men for the past few weeks was beginning to crack.

He sat up dead straight in his chair.

“Vows of celibacy,” he repeated, the words sounding tasteless on his tongue. “That’s what you’re worried about, Junior? About the academy finding out you broke ‘em to sleep with me?”

The man chewed on his bottom lip.

“Yes. And no.”

Oh, for the love of Christ, what did _that_ mean?

Seeing the look on the other man’s face made Jin dig his teeth in deeper.

“What I’m also worried about is what they would do – what they would say – when they find out I’m willing to break my vows for you _again_.”

Erron felt something tighten in his chest. And damn it all, he could feel his cheeks warming up.

“Is that why you’ve been keeping me at arms’ length this whole time?” he asked.

The glass barrier was beginning to splinter into fine pieces …

Jin’s eye-roll was impressive.

“Equals part for that reason, equals parts because I’m still waiting for your thirsty ass to earn the opportunity,” he drily answered.

Oh dear, never mind, false alarm. It looked like the barrier was going to continue being in the goddamn way.

Because of _cooouuurrrse_.

Still, Erron could not help but snort.

“I’m not exactly a quick learner,” he said. “But I do appreciate a bit of motivation now and then.”

Before Jin knew it, Erron leaned across the table and pressed his lips against the bowman’s – a peck that barely lasted two seconds before Erron pulled back. It was too chaste for his liking, although licking his own lips, tasting the sweet tomato residue on the tip of his tongue, made him grin. It widened at the sight of the dumbfounded expression on Jin’s face.

“Consider that as a reward for my efforts today,” he said, settling back in his seat. “And believe me, Jin, whatever you’re willing to give me – a kiss or two, or another date, I guess – I’ll take them as they come, and I’ll cherish them a bit more from now on in case they’re my last. As for the vows …”

He paused, giving much thought to his next words:

“Just because you’re givin’ me this opportunity to know you more, that doesn’t mean you _have_ to sleep with me in return. Not if it’s going to bite you in the ass should those other Shaolin monks ever find out about it. And far be it from me to force you into somethin’ you’re not comfortable with. Even though I’ve been bullheaded about it now and again, I don’t want to be rushing you into something you might regret sooner or later. Am I making sense?”

Jin stared, absorbing his words. Then, to Erron’s surprise, he chuckled.

“Son of a bitch, Black, you’re really quite the chatterbox when you want to be, huh?” he remarked, smirking almost. “I bet I’m the only person alive who’s ever heard you speak more than two sentences at a time!”

Erron’s nose wrinkled.

“If that’s how you’re gonna be every time I bare my heart and soul to you, then I’m just gonna save my breath and give you the silent treatment,” he replied with a half-annoyed sigh.

His irritation didn’t last long, however: Jin reached out to cover his hand with his own, squeezing it gently. His tawny eyes were resolute and simmering with warmth.

“I appreciate what you said, Black, thank you,” he said softly. “Believe me when I say that it means everything to me. Every single word. It all makes perfect sense to me, and I’m not taking them for granted any time soon. Not at all, in fact.”

He squeezed his hand again, his thumb slowly stroking the tanned skin. His voice became lower, huskier.

More _wanting_.

“It would be a lie to say that I don’t want to break my vows again,” he goldenly said under his breath. “That I want to break them _now_ more than ever. There were so many times these last couple of weeks that I wanted to give in without thinking about the repercussions. I knew exactly what I would be getting myself into if I did, so please, Black, just know that you wouldn’t be forcing me or anything – whatever would’ve happened, I would’ve wanted it. I _still_ do.”

By God, Jin’s voice alone, let alone the words, was enough for Erron – feeling himself becoming more and more inflamed – to want to pull him across the table and have his way right then and there in broad daylight.

But Jin sighed again.

“Just not now,” he whispered. “Not while Earthrealm and Outworld are still hashing it out. I don’t want to get us both into trouble.”

His hand slid off. Then, it was Erron’s turn to sigh (which sent a tingle of pain down his parched throat).

“I hate to admit it, but you’re right, Junior,” he mumbled. “I can’t say the Kahn’ll be thrilled if he knew what you and I were up to.”

Jin snorted.

“Neither would anyone in S-F or at the Wu Shi Academy,” he said. “They’d probably _castrate_ me if they knew what was happening.”

“The emperor would castrate me, behead me, _and_ eat my heart for dinner. Oh, and throw my remains in the Living Forest. He likes you a lot, you know. More than he lets on.”

“Does he?”

“Not as much as _I_ do, obviously. But yeah, he thinks you’re a real smart cookie. Reliable, too. So, he would likely lose his absolute shit if he saw me – how would he say it now – tarnishing your innocence.”

Jin laughed. A bright smile appeared on his face as he grabbed a fry from Erron’s plate. The salted, golden tip bounced against his bottom lip as he regarded the other man through half-lidded eyes.

“Luckily for him, I was never really innocent to begin with,” he stated in a low voice before taking a bite.

Watching the bowman eating the fry ( _Eat your heart out, toothless old devil_ ), Erron could feel his own appetite swelling … the kind that no food could satisfy, of course.

But the gunslinger mentally shook his head, daring himself to ignore his burgeoning ache.

He knew he had to hold to his word.

 _All_ of them.

Soon enough, the gains from this job would be more than he ever dreamed of. He was sure of that.

Unless the Great Kung Lao himself descended from on high, and his lesser named kin ascended from below, to hunt him down for his dick and balls, and claim them as trophies before he could try his luck. But that was highly unlikely, right?

Right? Okay, moving _swiftly_ on with reality …

For now, Erron could afford to hold off his yearnings for as long as he needed.

He would wait for the glass barrier to break completely.

And when that time _did_ come?

Oh, he just could not wait.

 _All in good time_ , he thought to himself, stealing a tomato slice from Jin’s bowl with his fork.

 _But first, a beer would be_ really _nice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect things to get a little more steamy in the next chapter - maybe! Let me know if you enjoyed this chapter, and see you soon. Xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the plan's changed a little, so now there will be four chapters instead of three. You'll see why in a minute. Enjoy! X

He shouldn’t. He _knows_ he shouldn’t.

Balled into a determined fist, Kung Jin’s hand was three taps away from knocking on the door, but the knuckles stopped short of the polished wood by a couple of inches.

Letting it hover in the air for a few seconds, Jin let his hand fall to his side, the loosened fingers now clutching at his pant leg. He huffed out a long, low sigh.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Shit, indeed. Jin knew what he was doing would land him in a crap ton of trouble with his Special Forces superiors: not one of them even knew he was here.

After the latest conference finished, the bowman had excused himself, telling Cassie and her parents that he was turning in early for the night so that he could return to the Wu Shi Academy first thing tomorrow morning. They most likely imagined he was already in his designated barrack, lounging under the covers of his bed with a book in his hands. A book, they were perhaps guessing, that he sweet-talked his Shaolin masters into borrowing from their precious archives.

Not the world’s greatest reward for all the mediating he had to do in the past several weeks, they probably thought, but it’s still a reward anyway. And a well-deserved one, at that.

Jin swallowed a harsh chuckle.

Early night in? Yeah, right.

Talk about bullshit wrapped in pretty tissue paper.

Jin sighed again, his eyes closing at the same time.

 _If they knew I was here, I’ll never hear the end of it_ , he thought to himself. _That’s if they let me hang onto my head instead of keeping it as a trophy._

It took little effort on Jin’s part to gain access to this particular barrack. All he did was tell the officer on duty the same thing he told him, and that other soldier, the last time he was here:

_“Just finished up another conference … ninth one now … seven weeks … yeah, they’re taking forever, these peace talks, but they’re getting somewhere, at least … sometimes I wish I’d leave all the talking to Mr Cage, but you know how that’ll end up … yup, Kotal Kahn isn’t as dumb as you’d think … speaking of which, General Blade wants me to pass on a message to the emperor … I need to leave it with Erron Black … yeah no, it can’t wait ‘til morning, I’ll be gone by then … I have to see him now."_

And by the Elder Gods, it worked _again_.

So here he was once more, standing before the bedroom door of the late, great Colonel What’s-his-face ( _Rest in peace_ ).

The door that separated him from the man who, by all accounts, should have been reduced to something _less_ than dust by the time the colonel had croaked.

_“I have to see him now.”_

Jin’s eyelids fluttered open. A groan lingered at the back of his throat.

 _I don’t_ have _to_ , he thought, the tone firm. _I don’t_ need _to. I just …_

He _shouldn’t_.

Plain and simple, he knows he shouldn’t.

But the more Jin stared at the door – his near-perfect reflection staring back at him from the wheat-colored surface – the less he believed in his own words.

His own lies.

“And what then? Do you expect to be _rewarded_ for lying?” Jin could imagine his superiors in Special Forces _and_ at the Wu Shi Academy asking him. “Do you believe yourself to be above being punished for your offences?”

_Did he?_

Well, to quote the man who had no idea that Jin was outside his door right now, risking his livelihood to see him tonight, “Depends on if I get caught.”

* * *

**_One week ago …_ **

“At the rate you’re – _mm_ – going, I wouldn’t be surprised if you _do_ get caught.”

Jin could feel Erron Black’s lips smiling against his neck as they skimmed across a particularly sensitive spot, provoking another soft moan. Pulling back slightly, the gunslinger locked his eyes onto his – they were almost cat-like in their gleam.

“Makes it all the more thrilling, don’t it?” he replied.

The low rumble of his voice, the heat of his breath against his skin … good God, it was enough for every part of Jin to stand to attention.

At the same time, however, the actual words were enough to put any thought of having his way with Erron straight to ( _Ha_ ) bed.

“What, screwing around in the palace pavilion? As in out in the _open_?” Jin retorted, pushing his back off the stone column while pulling away from Erron’s grasp – he ignored the other man’s whine as he stepped right around the column, taking in the pleasing view of Z’Unkahrah below. “Then I think the word you’re looking for is ‘crazy’. And ‘incredibly stupid’, while I’m at it.”

“That last one was two words,” grumbled Erron, who appeared at Jin’s side. His arm stretched towards the bowman’s waist. “Anyway, I wasn’t lookin’ to tumble about with you.”

“Tell that to your dick, Black,” Jin said as he practically bounced to the next column. “Who knew explaining Tai Chi to you would get you turned on?”

A lazy shrug. “Guess the thought of a demonstration was too irresistible.”

“There’s a difference between getting me into a pose and a _position_.”

“I wouldn’t’ve minded either.”

Jin rolled his eyes.

 _Nice try, though_ , he thought to himself, gently rubbing the spot on his neck where Erron’s lips had been. The skin was still warm to the touch, and it grew warmer as Erron walked towards him.

Damn it, if the man wasn’t nice to look at.

Conferences in Outworld meant that Jin would still wear casual clothing ( _I’d be doing Earthrealm no favors dressing up for a fight_ ), while Erron went back to wearing his usual garb. Indeed, his hat, poncho, bandoliers and revolvers were all out in full force today. His vest was open to reveal a form-fitting black shirt, while his dark trousers did nothing to disguise how toned his legs were.

The less said about the snug fit by the crotch area, the better. Or _worse_.

And Christ, Erron just had to ditch that leather mask, showing off that smug, slap-worthy, _devilishly handsome_ face to perfection. It was smooth, void of any fine stubble – from the kiss alone, Jin knew it was a shaving job well done.

Taking off his hat and running his gloved hand through his wispy sand-blonde hair, Erron’s mouth took the shape of a crooked grin as he came closer.

“Besides, I’ve been waitin’ to kiss you all day,” he said, his hat back on top of his head. “Can you begrudge me that, Junior?”

No, Jin could not begrudge the mercenary something simple like that. But that wasn’t the issue.

Out loud, he answered, “You had more than kissing on your mind.”

Standing before Jin now, Erron surprisingly had the decency to look a bit sheepish. But the expression quickly passed, and his face appeared blank, bordering on unfazed.

“A little lapse, is all,” he remarked. “Ain’t happening again.”

Jin frowned.

“Don’t be surprised when I tell you that I don’t believe you,” he replied.

“I mean it, Jin. It won’t happen again.”

“And what I’m hearing right now is complete bullshit.”

Erron’s brows furrowed.

“That’s the honest truth,” he muttered. “As if I’d lie to you.”

“This coming from the guy who couldn’t give a damn a minute ago about getting caught with his –”

“Shh.” Erron’s hands were clasped around Jin’s wrists. He gently pulled the bowman towards him, his voice soft and assuring, “No need to get all excited. If you want, I could –”

“Let go of me,” Jin cut in sharply, pulling his wrists out of his grasp.

For a moment, Erron looked ready to grab them back, or at least something else. Instead, he opted to let his arms fall down to his sides, his own wrists brushing against the handles of his revolvers.

“Sorry to upset you like that,” he offered. “It doesn’t sit right with me seeing you this way. That _I_ caused you to be this way in the first place.”

Great. Now the son of a bitch _sounded_ like he meant it.

But then, how many times _has_ he sounded like that?

How many times has Erron actually bothered to offer him an apology, or in his case, a half-assed remark meant to reassure him?

How many times has he let Erron get away with it?

How many times did they go through the exact same thing whenever they were together?

In the span of eight conferences? Too many to count.

Annoyance mounting in multitudes, Jin glared hard at Erron. A vague flicker of pleasure passed through him at seeing the gunslinger wince.

“If that’s the best you could come up with, then I’m not looking forward to what you’ve got to say next time,” he hissed. “Actually, I’m not even gonna bother holding out ‘til then. It’ll just be a waste of your time _and_ mine.”

Erron narrowed his eyes.

“Junior, what are you –”

“Don’t start _that_ with me. Don’t you dare.”

A frown dimmed Erron’s sunny features. Considering all the weeks Jin’s been in his company, seeing it was so strange. So morbid. It made Jin’s heart ache.

But his anger was far greater than his pity.

“I thought you’d do better with the opportunity you were given,” Jin stated in a low voice. “I thought maybe you’d actually try getting to know me more without feeling the need to come onto me every chance you get. You gave me your word … so many words.”

Okay, he didn’t mean to sound dramatic. And pathetic. It just happened.

If anything, it seemed like Erron was paying attention to him. Quite intently, by the looks of it. The frown’s still in place, though. Well, that can’t be helped right now.

_Or ever._

Jin struggled not to sigh. “I don’t have the time that _you_ have, Black. I can’t afford to wait around forever for you to understand me. _If_ that was even what you planned on doing.”

Erron’s mouth parted, but it closed as Jin shook his head.

“If you already decided you were – _are_ – willing to settle for less,” he muttered, “then I’m not gonna be that person. I refuse.”

He paused, barely keeping his thoughts from running all over the place. However, they stilled as his tawny eyes stared deep into the mercenary’s blue ones.

“I’m more than that, Black. So, _so_ much more. The Elder Gods know how much I wished you could realize that.”

If people on the quiet side could be dumbfounded, then Erron Black was their poster child. His face bore a staggered look, one that was just as strange to see as his frown.

“Jin,” he managed after a few seconds’ pause.

He lifted his hand, but it paused atop of his revolver when Jin scowled. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t gonna touch you. At least, I ain’t ‘til you say so.”

Jin’s response? Taking a step back while softly declaring:

“And you never will.”

“Jin, _wait_ –!”

‘Walked away’ was too nice a phrase to describe how Jin left Erron alone in the pavilion. ‘Stomped off in a huff’ was more appropriate.

Stomped off in a huff, doing his utmost best to ignore Erron as he called after him – his name falling off the gunslinger’s tongue and echoing off the walls like a perturbed mantra – and prayed that a portal to Earthrealm was already open by the time he rejoined his S-F comrades who had been wondering where the hell he was?

Now _that_ was definitely more accurate.

And boy, did it feel like _shit_ ...

* * *

_It still does._

With a blink at the door, Jin gave his reflection a frustrated frown; the wood-reflected doppelganger returned it with equal fervor, dampening his mood further.

All this soap opera dramatics with Erron had left Jin feeling both drained and snappy for the past week. Not to mention the feelings of inadequacy, despair and confusion that fogged his mind, clouding his senses and curbing his ability to live his life as if nothing like this had happened.

Like his hook-up with Erron had never happened.

Like Erron Black, cowboy fuckboy, never even _existed_.

Except when Jin felt the urge to cuss him out internally.

Post-whatever-passed-for-a-break-up blues well and truly _sucked_.

It also made him dread having to leave the safety net that was the Wu Shi Academy and be catapulted into another round of “Why Earthrealm and Outworld need to kiss and make up since yesterday”. In fact, he even considered asking General Blade if he could skip today’s conference just so that he didn’t have to see _his_ face again.

But no, he knew there was no point: Kotal Kahn was getting grousy at the rate and direction in which these conferences were going, more often than not scoffing at the deals proposed to him, and altering or even dismissing them completely where it suited him (not that the emperor was intentionally aiming his ire at Jin, whom he indeed thought was a “smart cookie” – he apparently was not in the camp of “shooting the messenger”).

In turn, it put the general and the S-F brass on edge ( _Thank the Elder Gods “shooting the messenger” is just an expression_ ). Agitation required a steady hand to smooth the rough edges, and they relied a lot on Jin to get the job done than entrust it to anyone else.

Well, it’s nice to feel needed once in a while, right?

Of course, Erron Black’s presence _did_ throw him off a little bit.

Okay, a _lot_.

The gunslinger was once again assuming the role of Kotal Kahn’s mouthpiece at the conference … only, the difference was that he had ditched his Earthrealm wardrobe and was wearing his usual Outworld attire, bullets and all. This, along with his taciturn attitude and limp, short answers, hardly endeared himself to the S-F officers around the table.

As for when Jin had to address Erron himself?

Then the attitude, and the length and content of his answers, remained unchanged, if not worsened.

To Jin’s consternation, his heart ached.

The ache remained several hours later when the conference ended, and Erron passed on the supper, letting himself be escorted by a soldier to the dead colonel’s barrack early.

Aggravatingly, however, it only eased a little when Jin excused himself from the supper, too.

It all but disappeared when he found himself conning his way into the same barrack.

But now, standing before the bedroom door, hesitation overcoming him as the full weight of his lies and actions bore down on him with the intensity of gunfire, the bowman could somehow feel the ache returning in full force.

“Shit,” he whispered once again.

Jin shouldn’t.

Oh, he just _knows_ that he shouldn't.

Cassie, their teammates, General Blade, Mr Cage, Raiden, and his dear uncle somewhere out there … they’d all be beyond royally appalled if they knew where he was.

_More or less._

Suddenly, Jin saw the shadow of a grin appearing on his reflection’s face.

“That’s _only_ if you get caught,” he saw the words falling from its lips.

Jin cocked his head to the side, blinking several times.

After a second or two, he sighed, his hesitation _and_ caution leaving with it.

_Oh, fuck it._

Then, clenching his hand, he raised his fist and knocked thrice on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fourth chapter will definitely be the last one, and with more steamy moments between these two. Not that there was much steam going on here though. xD I guess I got carried away with Jin's POV. See you all soon for the final chapter. C:


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is here, y'all! :D Huge ups once again to VenusInCancer for all the inspiration and encouragement for this fic - it was great to extend it and be able to to indulge in my OTP feels. So thank you, Venus, I hope you, and you all, will enjoy reading this. X

The kettle in the kitchenette had just come to a boil when three hard taps came on the bedroom door.

Erron Black looked up from his mug, his brows furrowing in the direction of the door.

 _Damn it_ , he thought. _Don’t these Special Forces bastards know when to leave me alone and go the fuck to sleep?_

Another three taps on the door answered his question.

Not to mention it elicited a quiet groan.

Hoo boy, he was _definitely_ not getting paid enough for this shit.

“Alright, alright, I’m comin’,” Erron answered, mumbling a few choice curses to himself as he padded over to the door and pulled it open.

Seeing who was standing there, however, made the curses die in his throat.

In fact, speech up and failed the gunslinger as he found himself staring into the face of Kung Jin – the last man on Raiden, Fujin, and whatever God’s green and messed-up earth whom he expected to see tonight. Or any other night, to be specific.

With a tilt of his head, a strand of hair spiraling against his cheek like a fresh drop of ink, Jin looked intently at him.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Did I wake you?”

It took a few seconds of silence before Erron, shaking his head of his little stupor, found his voice and answered.

“No. I was awake already. Didn’t actually fall asleep yet.”

He watched as Jin’s eyes briefly flickered up and down his figure, clothed only in a short-sleeved, dark-blue shirt, black trousers and boots. All his gear, he had already shed and left on top of the dresser. Without thinking, Erron extended the same courtesy to Jin (having denied himself the opportunity before) – his eyes raked over the bowman’s tight maroon shirt, his black skinny jeans and white sneakers … and then back up the jeans and shirt at a slower pace. He could only feel just a tiny portion of shame as his eyes met Jin’s narrowed ones. Clearing his throat, he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

“Um, the kettle just boiled,” he muttered. “You want a cup of coffee or something?”

Jin’s hand clutched at his pant leg.

“Or something,” he answered.

Erron couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow.

Jin gave him a withering look.

“What, the colonel didn’t keep tea? Or chai latte? Better take a look, Black, or else I’m gone.”

* * *

“Careful, it’s hot.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell from the steam.”

Oh great, sarcasm. A not-so-wonderful treat to go with Erron’s coffee, but apparently a sweetener for Jin as he blew on his cup of tea. By divine mercy or some sort of shit-dumb luck, the gunslinger happened upon a single teabag in a forgotten jar stashed away in a cupboard. Walking back to the counter and collecting his coffee, he carried it to the small table where Jin sat. He carefully sat down in the chair opposite and looked at his guest through a wave of vapor. Something that resembled a frown was plastered across Erron’s face.

“I’m gonna assume this visit’s got nothin’ to do with S-F business,” he commented in a flat tone.

Jin looked up from his mug and slowly shook his head.

“Nothing to do with them,” he said. “I’m here on my own accord.”

“Coming for an apology, I’ll bet.”

“Something like that.”

Erron sat back in his chair, careful not to spill his coffee. The mug rested precariously against his chest.

“Something like that, huh? I don’t reckon you’d be here for anything less than that.”

Jin sipped his tea, his eyes never leaving Erron’s face.

“At this point, I’m not sure what to expect from you. Let’s just say, you’re unpredictable like that.”

This coming from out the mouth of unpredictability incarnate.

A mouth that –

 _No._ **_No_** _. Stop._

Erron sighed long and hard, the steam rolling to the side in a rushed spiral.

“Apologies and I have barely gone hand-in-hand these last couple or so decades,” he mumbled. “Even if I had one in me, it wouldn’t be good enough for you. _Anything_ that comes out of my mouth just _isn’t_ good enough for you.”

Jin shook his head again.

“You offered me a drink. _That_ was good enough for me.”

Erron snorted in spite of himself.

“Which night, tonight or ...?”

“Both nights.”

“Can’t say I’m not polite.”

Jin chuckled quietly. “Right. Not exactly subtle, either.”

Erron echoed the chuckle. Sipping his coffee, his gaze softened. At the same time, though, he felt his chest tightening. It felt like lead was slowly filling his lungs. He gulped hard, hoping the heat would lessen the sudden weight.

“I’m sorry about everything, Jin,” he said. “I want you to know that I’m telling the truth. I really am.”

Jin tilted his head, his own gaze becoming sharper, harder, as he scrutinised the other man. His mug rested on the edge of his collarbone.

Erron watched it, wishing it was his lips instead.

 **_Stop_**.

Then, the bowman gently set the mug down on the table. Looking straight at Erron, he slowly but surely smiled.

“I believe you, Black,” he replied. “And I’m telling you the truth, too.”

Sitting up straight, Erron also placed his mug down. His mouth morphed into a smile of his own.

“That’s real swell. Can I get that in writing?”

Jin laughed. “Only if I can add ‘Fuck off’ underneath.”

Erron rolled his eyes, but the smile remained.

 _Typical Junior_ , he thought to himself.

 _No. Typical_ **_Jin_** _._

Leaning forward, Erron reached out, laying his right hand flat on the table next to Jin’s mug. His eyes never left the man’s face.

“Thank you,” he declared. “I mean it.”

Jin, without breaking eye contact, also leaned forward and placed a hand on top of his, splaying his fingers over the tanned skin. His palm was steaming hot.

“And thank _you_ for the apology,” he answered, his voice low. It took on an amused tone as he added, “Y’see? You’re actually good at making apologies, when you put your mind to it.”

Erron shrugged, doing his best to ignore the fact that his cheeks were becoming warm.

“Guess short and sweet’s more my style,” he said.

The tips of Jin’s fingers pressed, almost kneaded, into the gunslinger’s skin. The sweet sensation sent a jolt of energy towards his chest, tightening it further.

“Sometimes,” the bowman whispered, “less _is_ more … Erron.”

Before Erron knew it, Jin – taking a firm grip of his hand – lifted it and placed it against his cheek, which felt smooth and warm beneath his touch as his fingers curved around it, save for the dangling, soft black strand of hair trapped beneath them. Then, dipping his head inward, Jin pressed his lips against Erron’s inner wrist, brushing them over his pulsepoint and releasing them with an audible smack.

Damn, did _that_ send a jolt someplace else.

Lifting his head, Jin’s eyes – simmering, gleaming, _burning_ like a forest on fire – met his. His grinning lips stretched almost to aching point.

As for Erron?

He was aching _everywhere_.

* * *

The bedsprings heaved a mighty groan as Erron’s back hit the mattress.

Well, ‘nearly breaking the mattress in half as he landed’ was a more accurate description, but his mind couldn’t bother to correct itself, for every ounce of wind had been knocked out of him.

Getting his bearings was just as futile, for Erron felt the full weight of Jin’s on top of him and, with hands cupping his face, their lips crashed together, stealing his breath for another moment.

Okay, _several_ moments.

And all very long, very heated, very … whatever be-all-and-end-all term existed to describe how _amazing_ each one was.

Despite the lack of air, Erron wanted to be as close to Jin’s warmth as possible, lifting his mouth up so it could be immediately captured if they separated even for a _second_ … his hands roamed high and low over Jin’s shoulders and back, before they began rubbing his denimed thighs as he straddled him … his legs, bent at the knees, spread out in a fan as his hips rose and fell with every kiss …

Before his body gave up on oxygen altogether, Jin and Erron broke apart (the latter with a none-too-quiet gasp). Sitting up just a little, Jin smirked down at him with half-lidded eyes, stroking his cheek with a thumb.

“My my, you’re looking a little buzzed,” he remarked huskily. “This is why it’s not a good idea to drink coffee before bed.”

Catching his breath, Erron gave him a look that was a cross between pleasure and vexation.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he growled.

“Wasn’t. Just pausing.”

“Didn’t tell you to pause, either.”

Erron brought his hands down on Jin’s thighs … _hard_. The smacking sound, along with the bowman’s yelp, echoed throughout the room. With a sharp intake of breath, he glared at the gunslinger.

And goddamn it all, he looked so _good_.

“Lost your gentle touch, Black?” the punk deadpanned. “How disappointing. Hope your hands hurt.”

It was Erron’s turn to smirk.

“A little. Kiss ‘em better for me, please?”

Jin raised an eyebrow, his hand sliding along the underside of the mercenary’s jaw.

“Yet still polite,” he murmured.

Then, tightening his grip, Jin lowered himself down, and Erron once again found himself engulfed in the warmth of his mouth. Before he got too comfortable, however, Jin pulled back, releasing his bottom lip with a hum.

“I’ll think about it,” he whispered. “But frankly, I’m gonna need more than that. I _want_ more.”

Erron stared up at him intently, as if to consider these words.

Except he wasn’t.

His mind was already made up from the beginning.

This barrier _had_ to be broken.

Without a second thought, Erron pushed his hips up against his.

“Then take it.”

* * *

Sweet Kung Laos both in heaven and hell, if Kotal Kahn knew what else this punk’s mouth could do.

The fresh trail of kisses made Erron’s bare skin tingle, and it continued to do so with Jin’s every movement: on his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, and from one pectoral muscle to the other (with the, uh, _adornments_ getting equal attention). Now, those lips were working wonders on his stomach and –

“ _Ooh_.”

Bullseye on a sweet spot.

It was enough for Erron’s back to arch off the bed, the gears in his spine turning wildly to send a euphoric surge to the rest of his aching body.

As he landed back on the covers, Jin – pausing to rest his chin above Erron’s navel, a feat considering how fast his abdomen swelled and dipped with every heavy breath – lifted his eyes to meet his. They were glazed with satisfaction, matching the look on his face.

“This what you had in mind?” he asked.

Erron’s response was a low rumble:

“Keep going.”

Jin’s fingers hooked themselves into the gunslinger’s trouser waistband, his thumbs rubbing along the leather belt. Then, planting another lingering kiss on his belly, he answered:

“I intend to.”

* * *

Okay, there is _no fucking way_ the Shaolin monks taught him this.

Even though the idea tickled him, Erron _very_ highly doubted that their archives housed a copy of the Karma Sumo or whatever the hell it was called.

Or perhaps they did? Yeah, maybe. Would make them seem less infallible if they did. Add a dash of sexiness, at least.

Plus, it gave him food for thought about what else Jin could do. _Very_ delicious food, indeed ... 

His chuckle gave away to a moan.

“I needed this,” he sighed.

Another moan, more like a whine, escaped as the heat withdrew from between his legs. Teeth grazed against the inside of his thigh, followed by a burst of hot breath as Jin asked, almost purring, “Needed, or _wanted_?”

“Both.”

“And not one person in Outworld could oblige you. Poor you.”

“And lucky _you_ ,” Erron retorted, pushing himself up to balance his weight on his arms. He raised his brows at the bowman. “And what I really want _and_ need right now is for you to get out of those damn clothes.”

Jin left an imprint of a smirk against the flushed skin. “Oh, so _now_ you realize I’m still dressed up? Was wondering when your brain was gonna catch up with your dick.”

“C’mon. I’m lying here bare like a bone. Would be nice if you returned the favor.”

A long, dexterous slide of Jin’s tongue along his thigh muscle made the words “Oh God” form on Erron’s mouth.

They were quickly replaced with an audible “Ow, shit!” when Jin smacked his hand against the same spot.

“Then get up and take these clothes off me, lazy ass.”

* * *

Jin’s body was a treasure trove.

His eyes, all shiny and new like copper coins.

His hair, hanging down in its ponytail like impeccably sculpted onyx.

Those freckles, like scattered bronze pearls.

His bare skin, stretched over a muscular frame that clung tightly to him as the gunslinger’s mouth gently bit his neck, had a brassy sheen.

And damn, one could wax lyrical about his doubloons and family jewels all day.

“ _Mm_ … Erron …”

But his voice?

“Erron … don’t stop.”

That voice was pure, solid gold.

* * *

The last time Erron was in this position, he may or may not have been tipsy.

But the Shaolin monk? Pissed out of his skull, no doubt about that.

Yet as he stared down at said monk – whose face, just an inch apart from his, was alert and so wonderfully aglow – he knew he was witnessing sobriety at its highest level.

Still, he found the need to ask in a soft whisper:

“You’re sure about this?”

Jin nodded.

“I want this as much as you do,” he replied, equally soft.

Erron cupped his cheek, his thumb brushing the edge of Jin’s bottom lip.

“I’m aching for it,” he said. “Been aching since the second conference.”

Amusement shone in Jin’s eyes. His mouth parted, but very quickly it shut. With it, the amusement disappeared. Instead, he nodded again.

“I feel you, Erron,” he said with a somber sigh. “I do.”

As if to punctuate his point, Jin’s hand, stroking the man’s side, slid inward and trailed down, enclosing around his – 

“ _Mm_.”

With a moan that he swore could be heard as far as S-F’s watchtowers, Erron buried his face in Jin’s neck, the bowman’s pulse beating against his skin. At the same time, his legs spread out further at an obscene, almost painful angle over Jin’s hips.

His chest felt so tight that it … it _ached._

Jin, on the other hand (so to speak), merely smiled.

And squeezed.

“Give me _you_ , Erron,” he said. “ _All_ of you. And I’ll give you me. No more, no less.”

Letting the not-quite-the-last mewls leave his system, Erron lifted his head, his cheeks as pink as peonies in bloom. Locking onto Jin’s tawny gaze, the corners of his lips slowly curled upwards.

“Then I’m all yours, Jin.”

* * *

When Erron opened his eyes, he was aware of three things: number one, he shouldn’t’ve opened his eyes so quickly, because the morning light was brighter than D’Vorah’s future.

Number two, he was _definitely_ feeling a little tender below the beltline. Christ, he had to wonder if this was the closest thing to feeling like a turkey’s wishbone – he would have laughed out loud at the ridiculous image, if his mind wasn’t feeling so sluggish at this moment in time.

 _Can’t say those Shaolin types don’t have stamina_ , it supplied none too helpfully.

Speaking of Shaolin, that brought Erron to number three: rolling onto his side, doing his best to ignore the faint twinges, he noted through his bleary gaze the empty spot next to him on the bed.

Erron’s eyes fluttered shut, the pillow nearly swallowing his loud groan.

 _Shit_. Last night couldn’t have been a dream, that’s for damn sure. Unless Jin somehow spiked his coffee and triggered his thirsty brain to concoct a fantasy sequence straight out of an erotic romance novel.

Well, it was a very realistic dream, then, if it left him bare-assed and feeling numb in the – 

“Stop with the groaning, Black, you’re breaking my heart.”

A steaming cup appeared in his vision. Blinking his eyes, Erron looked up.

Kung Jin – fresh-faced, fully dressed, and not a hair out of place – stared down at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He gave the side of the mug two taps with his fingernails.

“Take it,” he said. “Cold coffee first thing in the morning isn’t very pleasant, so drink up while it’s still warm. Oh, and good morning to you, too.”

Great. It looked like sarcasm upgraded from unneeded coffee treat to unneeded breakfast meal.

With a bit of golden honey thrown in.

Rolling gingerly onto his back with a grunt, Erron sat up, the covers falling to reveal his bare chest. Running a hand over his face and through his hair, he took the mug from Jin with a nod.

“Morning,” he mumbled. “You sleep well?”

Jin raised a knowing eyebrow.

“Nicely, thanks,” he answered. “Early to bed, early to rise, and all that.”

Erron glanced at the windows, wincing at the harsh rays of sunlight, then back at Jin. “Looks a little later than early to me.”

Jin shrugged. Then, he sat down on the bed, perched next to Erron’s blanketed legs, and stared at the man sitting opposite.

“I decided to wait for you to wake up before I go. I’m heading back to the Wu Shi Academy ‘til the next conference rolls around. I want to carry out some extra research on Outworld before I speak with Kotal Kahn again, just so I can help get the proposed deals pushed through. And the curator of the archives wants me to do a little sorting of some manuscripts.”

The gunslinger raised his brows.

Well. Sounds fun. A shame he would have to miss it.

Then, his brows furrowed. “You waited up for _me_? And the monks are waitin’ for you? Won’t they be mad that you’re late?”

Jin shrugged again.

Erron sighed.

“If the answer to the last one was a ‘Yes’, then don’t let me keep you, Jun – _Jin_ ,” he said.

Jin cocked his head.

“And if it was a ‘No’?” he asked. “Would you keep me then?”

Erron took a generous sip of his coffee, his eyes shimmering and dancing behind the veil of steam like a mirage. Lowering his mug, he answered:

“I would. But I reckon the answer’s really leaning towards ‘Yes’, so I ain’t about to let some killer monks put a bounty on my ass because you’re playing hooky.”

The bowman crossed his arms, and smirked while he was at it.

“Now _there's_ something I wouldn’t mind claiming … again,” he remarked.

Before Erron could think to toss a pillow at his sassy mouth, Jin placed his hand atop one of the mercenary’s legs. Even through the covers, his palm was warm.

“But you’re right for once,” he added, rubbing his hand up and down Erron’s knee. “The monks will need me back there, especially the curator. It wouldn’t be _proper_ if one of their own was still out and about, let alone, uh, _playing hooky_ with Kotal Kahn’s representative.”

Erron sighed again (with a hint of a purr). “At least we’ll still have these conferences. Although by the sound of things, they’ll be wrapping up soon.”

“Not quite yet, but they’ll have to end at some point. They _have_ to, otherwise Earthrealm and Outworld might as well be prepping for another tournament. To say nothing of a potential Shinnok situation ever happening again.”

Then, his hand traveled higher; Erron’s quiet hiss was a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t still see each other,” Jin murmured, stroking circles with his thumb. “That’s if … if you still want.”

Erron tilted his head.

“I do. I thought last night proved that.”

The gunslinger could picture the hundreds of thousands of retorts that formed in Jin’s mind – most likely to do with guys making hollow, dick-driven promises, with a pointed reference to _his_ own endowment.

But like last night, the bowman spared him the smart-assery.

“I know, I know. I just need to be sure about where we stand. About how we – hey, be careful with that, Black.”

Erron, after leaning over the side of the bed to place his half-drunk coffee on the floor (either the late colonel was really thrifty, or S-F didn’t have the budget to buy bedside tables – go figure), sat up straight in the bed. The tiredness had completely fallen away from his face.

“Jin,” he said softly but firmly, “I know I ain’t one for speaking much, and God knows my words can barely hold a matchstick, let alone a candle, to _yours_ , but I’m just gonna keep it plain and simple so that it gets through your head: I _want_ to keep seeing you, and I want _you_ to keep seeing me, if you’re still comfortable with that. Because I’m not done getting to know you more, and I’m not about to leave this whole thing unresolved.”

He paused.

“I’m not settling for less here. You’re _more_ than that, and I want to understand all of it. All of _you_. Every last detail about you. And I’ll remain a damned fool for several lifetimes if I don’t.”

A pregnant silence fell about the room. Jin’s face, almost like a goldfish in both expression and in color, was both disquieting and wondrous to behold the more Erron stared at him.

He didn’t have long to stare, for Jin surged forward and planted his lips on his.

Surprised, Erron relaxed and let those soft, warm lips do what they wanted. With a little help from himself, of course – he reached up and clasped Jin’s shoulders, deepening the kiss for several breathtaking seconds.

Before long, they broke apart, their foreheads touching, and Jin … damn, his smile was radiant.

“That’s all I needed to hear, Black,” he said, his voice equally light. “It’s _what_ I needed to hear. Thank you.”

A chuckle rose from Erron’s throat. “Happy to oblige.”

Another kiss, longer than the last.

When they separated – a little reluctantly on Erron’s part, if his increasing pressure on the other man’s shoulders was anything to go by – Jin gazed at him through thoughtful, half-lidded eyes.

“Just when I think I’ve got you figured out, Black, you go and surprise me every time,” he remarked. “You, leaving me speechless when you talk like that … there’s a lot about you that I still need to learn.”

Erron shrugged, a playful gleam in his eyes.

“Return the favor, and you’ll have plenty of time to figure me out,” he replied.

Jin laughed. “A learning opportunity?”

Erron nodded. “A learning opportunity.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Then let’s seal the deal …”

Erron wound his arms around Jin, bringing their lips together one more time – hard, long and deep. Slowly, he lowered his back onto the bed, pulling Jin down with him without breaking contact. From there, hands roamed, mewls were moaned, and sighs were sighed. Seconds turned into minutes that could have been decades, for all they cared.

Finally, they broke for air. Lying on their sides facing each other, flushed and breathing heavily, they shared a smile. Erron reached up, tucking a black strand behind Jin’s ear.

“Better start skipping back to the Wu Shi Academy,” he said. “Don’t want you to get into trouble.”

Jin sighed petulantly.

“They can wait a bit longer,” he replied. “Just another ten minutes. Please, Erron?”

Not waiting for an answer, Jin nestled closer – seeing him do so, Erron knew he was not even going to attempt to argue with him.

Not when his name – his _first_ name, as plain and common as it can get – sounded so rich, so valuable, so _golden_ on his tongue.

Instead, he rolled onto his back, allowing Jin to lay his head upon his chest. While the gunslinger rested his hand on the bowman’s side, the latter placed his hand between his pectoral muscles, caressing the skin with feathery touches.

“Just ten minutes,” Erron reminded him, kissing the top of his head, “then I’m kickin’ you out.”

“That depends.”

Oh, for Christ’s sake. Stubborn much?

“Depends on what?”

That hand moved to the bed covers that still swathed Erron from the hips down; grabbing them and lifting them up, Jin’s eyes flickered downwards, Then, letting the covers drop and returning his hand to its spot on Erron’s chest, his eyes fluttered upwards. A mock-pout appeared.

“Okay, just ten minutes,” he acquiesced. “We can have an encore of last night’s performance the next time we meet instead.”

Erron just smiled knowingly, closing his eyes to better enjoy the other man’s stroking, his warmth, his _everything_.

No ache this morning.

Except for the tight ache in his chest, which, beneath Jin’s touch, slowly but surely began to disappear.

And for the first time in a long while, Erron felt satisfied.

Nothing more, nothing less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap on this fic! Thanks so much for reading, and lemme know your thoughts about this final chapter below. C:


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